


I've got a present for you

by AllHailTheUnderDogs



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Edging, Klaus is a tease, Lingerie, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Pseudo-Incest, Smut, Sparring, unintentional cockblocking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-11-18 13:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18121598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllHailTheUnderDogs/pseuds/AllHailTheUnderDogs
Summary: “Don’t be a spoilsport, I’ve got a present for you.” Diego’s lungs constrict as Klaus’ tongue darts out to wet his lip. “But now you can’t have it until you beat me.”





	1. Chapter 1

They all have their things, Vanya’s is her violin, Allison- her career, Luther, well outside of brooding Diego isn’t sure what else he likes. Five’s latest hobby is belittling university professors that he claims superiority over, which, fine, whatever gets his rocks off. Klaus’ thing used to be the death defying number of drinks he could slam back, now it seems that his mission is to wind everyone up until someone finally snaps and throttles the wild idiot, complete what the drugs, alcohol and even a god damn war failed to do.

Diego’s the one that trains, the one to run drills until he can’t breath through the blood and sweat and ~~tears~~. It’s times like now when he’s breathing harder than he knows is safe, which is comical all things considered, his arms are starting to burn and he’s blinking furiously around the sweat that’s obscuring his vision as he’s raising the bar through one more set. Something creamy pale and inky dark comes into view and he falters, fingertips twitching as his blood thrums in recognition.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account.”

Klaus’ lyrical voice jolts him out of the mindset needed during these workouts, he collapses against the padding beneath his back and after the bars set safely so it doesn’t topple off and crush him, Diego gives Klaus his attention.

He has to blink again, to make sure he’s seeing right, as he drinks in the wondrous sight before him, Klaus is a menace in sequins and denim, shorts too high to give any form of modesty, becoming worse as the séance leans over the support frame to look down at him. It takes a commendable level of self control to drag his eyes away from those bare thighs, one he’s not sure is worth it when Klaus’ lips quirk up like he knows that Diego was thinking of sucking and biting until all of that unmarred flesh is flushed with his marks.

“What do you want Klaus?” He’s not stuttering which is a positive, when it comes to his brother all of the years of practice and mom’s advice, flies out of the fuckin’ window.

“I’m bored, let’s do something fun.” Klaus’ whine gives him a startling moment of reminiscence, of stolen moments as his brother would flounce into his room and throw himself onto Diego’s bed, declaring his frustrations loudly as he posed in lewd positions to taunt him. Teenage Klaus overlaps with the one pouting in front of him and Diego suddenly wants nothing more than to recreate the image, this time with him capitulating to the bratty séance.

But Klaus getting what he wants is never a clever idea, the trick has always been to make him work for it, to be sure his intentions are clear, so many of his needs fluctuate wildly.

“Too busy, find someone else.” He pushes himself up from the bench and starts to cross the room, trying to ignore the heady sensation of Klaus’ footsteps following him.

“Diego-” His name always sounds perfect coming from Klaus’ mouth. “- you’ve almost finished.”

“I was gonna find Luther and do some sparring.” He pauses on the mats to look back at the séance.

Klaus taps a slender finger to his lips and Diego fails miserably not to stare. “Here’s a wild idea, why don’t we spar?”

_Got you._

“You never take it seriously, Luther’s around here somewhere.” It’s the biggest fuckin’ bluff and Diego’s almost regretting his choice until Klaus’ face darkens for the briefest second, and he’s bouncing excitedly on his heels.

“Don’t be a spoilsport, I’ve got a present for you.” Diego’s lungs constrict as Klaus’ tongue darts out to wet his lip. “But now you can’t have it until you beat me.”

Knowing his brother it’s something wildly inappropriate and Diego wants it _now_.

So he gives in, agrees to what’s going to be an easy win, the quicker he finishes the sooner he can discover Klaus’ gift _ _.__

What he doesn’t expect is the lightening quick blocks to his strikes, evasive limbs that smoothly dodge past Diego like it’s nothing. It takes him until the fourth time that Klaus prances past his reach for words to click together in his head.

_Briefcase, war, soldier, training, sober._

A trained Klaus without the drugs clogging up his system and slowing down his brain is a terrifyingly fast creature, liquid and graceful as he darts out of reach. Every time Diego stalks near the object of his fascination he’s evaded with a light giggle.

“Giving up already?” Klaus asks, almost skipping around the edge of the training mat, circling Diego with light steps that defy the predatory glint in his eyes. He gives a lazy smile, cocky and proud, and Diego can’t remember the last time his skin’s felt this aware, prickling, and there’s goosebumps racing over his flesh. He’s half hard which from the heated stare Klaus fixes his sweats, his brother is well aware of it.

Especially when for the first time Klaus tries to go on the offensive.

Diego’s hand clips Klaus’ shoulder- even then the séance is faster than any of the men that Diego has sparred with before- diverting his body away and using the momentum to snap his foot out and twist it around Klaus’ ankle. His hand grips that ridiculous crop top and he’s throwing him onto the mat, following down after, fingers moving to circle Klaus’ wrists and pin them against the floor, legs tangling with his brothers and Diego’s breath is knocked out of his lungs at the lust blown eyes that stare up at him.

“Impressive Diego.” Klaus’ voice is a sultry whisper, he makes no move to free himself.

And Diego suddenly has this frustrating feeling that the séance has allowed himself to be caught.

Diego is fed up of being one step behind whatever the hell _this_ is, he shifts his weight between Klaus’ legs, grits his teeth against the feel of one smooth calf curving up around his waist and the outline of Klaus’ hard cock that his brother has no shame in pressing against him.

Diego makes a vow, silently to whoever is listening, that he’ll do whatever it takes, for as long as it takes to wipe that filthy, smug smile off of Klaus’ face.

He glances between their bodies, trying to decide where he’s going to begin when his eyes catch on the edges of Klaus’ shorts, that small fraction of exposed skin as the denim lowers with Klaus’ squirming hips.

The sliver of red lace peeking out.

_‘I’ve got a present for you.’_

All of the blood in Diego’s brain fucks off, or more precisely takes an express journey straight to his cock.

By the time he forces his focus back up, expecting to see Klaus’ gleeful smirk it’s a jolt when molten green eyes meet his, red lips parted around a heated exhalation.

It’s a painfully slow move as he releases one of Klaus’ wrists, unable to resist the urge to press his thumb across the soft lacy material, pale flesh quivering under his touch and Diego finally feels like he’s in control again as he takes Klaus’ trembling lip between his teeth.

He savours Klaus’ whimper before the séance’s free hand claws the back of his neck, snaring him in for a kiss, tongue darting out to lick into his mouth and Diego’s brain goes hazy from the sensation. Returns the gesture with a finger tracing along the red line of Klaus’ underwear, dipping under the denim to follow the path until he’s brushing dangerously close to his dick and it’s a cruel move but Diego can’t help but slide away and hook the material back to snap it against creamy skin.

“Diego” Klaus gasps, breaking their kiss as his head falls back against the floor and Diego takes the opportunity to start on the whole marking business. It shouldn’t be that much of a turn on to feel Klaus’ hand tangle through his hair, the moan of appreciation he gives as Diego starts sucking and biting dark bruises into his flesh, shifting so Klaus can grind against his thigh but the noises that tumble out of those kiss swollen lips have Diego’s control straining thin-

The doors leading to the training hall bang open, Klaus is suddenly wriggling out from underneath him and Diego’s left unanchored, skin throbbing as he falls back and stares disbelievingly as Klaus’ deft hands straighten his clothes. Not that he can do much about his tousled bedroom hair, or the violent hickeys blooming down the line of his neck.

Footsteps thump closer and Diego’s struggling to find the right sequence of thoughts that’ll make him move, not helped when Klaus drops down with a feline grace, leaning intimately close.

“You know where to find me.” Klaus purrs, and Diego almost drags him back down onto the mat when his brother licks a burning stripe along the shell of his ear.

Instead he’s left staring at Klaus’ ass while he saunters away, red lace still peeking out above those shorts and Diego stays sprawled on the floor until Luther’s hulking mass lumbers into the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Diego can’t pretend he’s anything more than a twisted snarl of anger and pent up frustration by the time he finally leaves the training hall, a direct result of spending the better part of an hour first scrambling for a reason to give Luther of why he couldn’t possibly move from his hunched up position on the floor.

Then when he’d finished reciting lines of Latin they’d learnt as children, he was waylaid further by Luther’s insistence on running some group training schedules past him, like Diego could give a fuck about Number Ones piss poor attempts at leadership.

There’s no denying that he has every intention of storming into his brothers room and finishing what Klaus started as he takes the stairs two at a time, but whether it’s the gap in time, or some innate sense that holds him back when he comes to a stop outside of Klaus’ room. Pushing down the sound of his pulse hammering so he can listen like a creep is the worst idea when he’s assaulted by obscenely load groaning that’s barely muted by the door, alongside a very deliberate slapping noise Diego’s sure must be a gross exaggeration, either that or his brother gets his kicks from literally beating himself off until he comes.

Klaus’ always been known for trying to goad people into doing what he wishes, it’s a gift he’s perfected over the years and Diego’s become proficient at recognising these moments, cautiously navigating through them so he comes out the other side unscathed. But this time he’s fallen straight into Klaus’ greedy hands, it’s enough to make Diego slowly step back, distancing himself away from the open invite that Klaus’ saccharine voice moans out to him.

By the time Diego’s back in his room he’s finally able to think semi coherently without the image of Klaus clad only in his lacy red underwear looping through his head like the worlds best porno. Without the instinctual need dictating what to do he’s left feeling overwhelmed, there’s too much pressure involved, it’s neither of their first times but _fuck_ it’s going to be his first time with Klaus.

And he has no idea what to do that’ll hold Klaus’ interest, because his brothers done everything, or if he hasn’t tried something then it clearly isn’t worth the trouble. There’s no experience that Diego has to call upon that’ll give him an edge over Klaus and he really wants that fucking inch.

Because if Diego wrestles past the weak voice denying such _immoral_ thoughts,as his father liked to call them, and stopped being an obstinate shit then it’s easy to admit how _special_ Klaus’ attention makes him feel. More so when it’s practically gospel that Klaus never gives anything more than a fleeting fancy before he’s off seeking the next hit.

Maybe Diego’s overcomplicating matters but recently Klaus’ teasing quips have started shifting into something more inviting, like he actually wants more from Diego than a fuck to pass the time. There’s no evidence to prove so but Diego’s somehow fixated on this idea that if he can captivate Klaus during their first time then there’ll be numerous times after that. Another good reason to hesitate is if he doesn’t move then this cycle of tease and retreat continues and Diego can’t find much of a problem with that either.

There’s a familiar squeak of the old floorboard outside of his door, and Diego knows that if he had the balls to go and open it then he’d be greeted with the same sight he’s seen since he was a teenager.

When they were younger if there was an opportunity to mess with him then Klaus would take it, show no reticence in bursting through and launch himself onto Diego’s bed with glee. But when dealing with more serious stakes, something emotional or vulnerable, Klaus always hesitates. The first time their father had humiliated him for doing nothing more than practice make up with Allison, an offhand comment made in the countless interviews that had Luther scowling and berating him, another _session_ in the mausoleum. Ben’s death.

A distinctive knock would announce when Klaus needed Diego, when he needed to feel welcomed and wanted in at least one part of the house. They’d follow a near identical script every single time, Diego would make a show of declaring how he was __just__  about to search Klaus out for an insignificant problem that nobody else could possibly solve. Then after they’d dealt with said problem Klaus would go off on a random tangent until it was clearly too late for him to possibly risk sneaking back to his own room, lest he suffer their bastard fathers wrath.

A disproportionate number of Diego’s happy memories were spent on those night where his single bed demanded Klaus press so close that Diego could bury his face in curls that despite Pogo’s best efforts always managed to defiantly bounce back into place.

In the here and now all Klaus does is hover for long enough that Diego’s ability to hold his breath starts to feel oddly uncomfortable. It’s frustrating, because Klaus knows precisely what he’s doing, and when Diego hears deliberately scuffled footsteps it’s almost worse than the jaunty whistle the little shit starts up as he walks away.

After earlier it’s fucking clear that Klaus can move quieter than the ghosts that haunt him, watching his brother traverse the mats was a lesson in poetry, in motion. In tangible form that threatened to turn lethal with the right encouragement, and for the first time in their lives Diego had watched Klaus with the same sort of attention he might pay a savage animal. Experiencing both a need to stand at a great distance to feel safe, and this exhilarating rush at the realisation that Klaus could still surprise him after all of these years.

For all of Diego’s blustering and conceited beliefs that he knew his siblings, it’s been pitifully obvious that when it came to Klaus he didn’t have a fucking clue.

Or maybe it’s more pitiful that he’s still thinking the same spiral of thoughts at three in the morning while he sneaks towards the bathroom with the sole purpose of freezing his still hard dick in the shower.

 

* * *

 

It isn’t like Diego’s unaware of Klaus’ reaction to the word no, and he’s not boneheaded enough to realise that he’s essentially issued a glaringly loud challenge the other night. So it’s his own fault for being caught out the first time as he’s walking into the foyer from another shift doing what Klaus liked to dub his ‘vigilante shtick’.

“So you know that warm fuzzy feeling you get in your chest when you drink a beautifully brewed coffee?” Klaus sounds like he’s reciting from an advert and Diego’s pace is already slowing down to a crawl so he can listen better.

“Yes,” Five’s warily answers.

“That’s how it feels, but y’know…” In the seconds gap Diego can picture the motion Klaus’ undoubtedly making before the séance continues. “Don’t be shy, when you’re a big boy you’ll get the same buzz in your pe- _fuck!_  Don’t stab me asshole.”

“Don’t be so vulgar with a lady present.”

“Sorry Delores.” Klaus sounds maddeningly sincere, “But I’m serious, what in all the sexless levels of the underworld is happening to me?” Klaus’ whine echoes through the house, carried on a non-existent breeze straight to Diego’s dick. “I think I need to get laid and then- stab me one more time and I’ll pop a boner I swear- _Ow.”_

Diego’s brain jolts like a record skittering as he pulls up, right by the cracked outline on the floor where the chandelier rested for months until someone thought to move it.

“You’re a depraved monster.” Five answers.

“Tell me something new little man,” There’s a shuffling noise and the clinking of bottles, and Diego tells himself he’s only going in to check that Klaus isn’t about to relapse.

Not that he thinks Five would let him but better safe than sorry, the one thing he doesn’t expect is to find Klaus lounging on top of the bar, all of the foul jarred animal skeletons balancing precariously on the edges, whilst he’s flicking nail polish over his toenails and Fives sipping a margarita from one hand and the other rests comfortably on Delores’ shoulder.

Considering it’s barely six in the morning Diego really should be more alarmed, but then taking their fucked up childhoods into account and the store mannequin with a decorated glass between her fingers it’s not the weirdest situation he’s ever found himself in.

He's still grateful when Klaus' head snaps towards him, for that lurid feather boa his brothers draped across his neck, because Diego does not want to imagine what his marks look like littered over that pale flesh.

“Good morning batman, or is it good night?” Klaus frowns to himself for the barest moment before he shrugs. “How’s Gotham this fine- whenever?”

“Original, how long did it take you to come up with that?” Now it’s obvious the only person drinking is the thirteen year old, or the body of one, Diego wants nothing more than to shrink back out of the room. Klaus props himself up better, and there’s an unintentional hint of menace in his eyes, it’s enough to make Diego pause.

“I thought you’d have all grown up at some point.” Five laments into his glass.

“I stopped growing when I reached perfection.” Klaus pats between his legs and Five raises a cocktail stick in warning.

It’s interesting to watch, that for all of Five’s bullshit there doesn’t seem anyone else he seeks out, and Diego’s wondered for a while if it’s for the same reason, one of many, that he adores Klaus.

Their brother is the only one who can fill the bitter silence, turning cheap laughter and foul humour into a weapon, and unlike nearly everyone else he’s ever met Klaus never asks for anything in return. Even when he used to barter and bribe his way through life for drugs and fuck knows what else, if any of them were alone Klaus would burst in with dayglo bangles and sparkling high heels to demand their happiness and Diego never could say no.

“Enjoy, whatever the hell this is. I’m gonna go change.” Diego really does mean it.

“Into a better person?” Five sniggers. “That may be the best thing that’s happened since stopping the apocalypse.”

“Finish your drink Five, it’s so much easier to put up with you when you’re drunk.” Diego can’t think of anything better off the cuff but he shouldn’t be surprised that Klaus has to take things a step too far.

“ _Diego_ , mi hermano, you really need to take that stick out of your ass.” There’s a pause and Fives swilling his drink as they both suspiciously wait for the inevitable filth while Klaus smiles innocently.

“Or,” _there it fucking is_ , “you could always replace it with a dick instead, I’ll happily volunteer mine.”

To Klaus’ defence he’s anticipating the cocktail stick this time and if Diego wasn’t choking on his own spit he’d admire the way Klaus rolls back to kick his legs clear of Fives attack and it’s only a carefully placed hand that stops his skirt from slipping down to his waist.

“Do you ever fucking listen to yourself?” Five snarls. Diego still can’t hear any real anger behind it.

“Of course I do, I’m the only interesting one around here.”

There’s a telling sheen to the air around Five as he gathers his drink and Delores closer, liquid sloshing over the side. “I swear that you’re not in the right mind.”

“I’ve been trying to tell everyone that for years.” Klaus’ pearly teeth flash.

Diego’s not surprised when Five disappears in a haze of blue mist.

“Aww, I think he’s warming up to me.” Klaus muses.

“I’m pretty sure he’s stewing in the Arctic right now.”

“No, I’m sure it’s affection cracking open that shrivelled little heart of his.” Klaus shakes his head and the fond smile morphs into something mischievous. “So what can I do for you big brother?”

“Nothing, I’ve got-”

“C’mon, don’t leave me alone, I’ll be bored.”

“Tough.” Simple, one syllable answer, nothing for Klaus to twist.

Diego’s actually manages to turn to leave when Klaus slides a deliberate finger through the alcohol spilt in Five’s haste to jump away, bringing it up to his lips. Somehow Diego’s closed the distance and his hand automatically snaps out to stop his brother, a mistake when he can feel Klaus’ hot breath against his skin.

“Shit, didn’t know you were that desperate for a drink.” He wasn’t and they both know it.

Klaus only grins wickedly, “You could distract me with something else.” His tongue darts out to wipe a wet streak across Diego’s fingers.

“Or not.” Klaus falls onto his back and Diego numbly lets him go, naively thinking that his brothers finished with his latest tease as he falters back an inch, and Diego’s about to excuse himself so he can finally escape this damn room.

Something brushes against the side of his leg. _Shit_.

Klaus winks at him, hands casually tucked behind his head and that _something_ slides slowly up his thigh.

If he just steps away then Klaus won’t be able reach him, it’s an obvious solution to a problem that isn’t really a problem. Diego makes the mistake of glancing down as Klaus’ slender foot brushes along the inside of his thigh, openly staring as he follows the long line of Klaus’ calf and stopping at the hem of his flared skirt where it pools dangerously high.

There’s more chance of hell freezing over than Klaus wearing anything under the dark material, his brain helpfully provides.

Diego can move away, he really can, it’s just his body decides to do the exact fucking opposite, and Klaus’ eyes darken in victory as Diego leans forward _. Oh, you fucker._

It’s embarrassing to admit but he’d forgotten until the other day what it felt like to be physically aroused, forgotten how intoxicating it was, how it impeded the ability to think rationally and act with some form of common sense.

Not that Diego’s ever listened to common sense.

There isn’t a doubt in his mind what he would have done if Five hadn’t popped back into the room for another drink. Diego takes the opportunity to get the fuck out of there sometime between Five’s outraged shouting, _‘not you guys too’_ and Klaus’ hysterical giggling.

He locks himself in the bathroom, swearing up a storm under his breath and harder from a brief game of footsie than any man should ever be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic should really just be called 'the two times Klaus' family cockblocks him and the one time they don't'.  
> Or Jess can't leave anything without adding sex and about 10k of words to it.


	3. Chapter 3

There’s a knock on Diego’s door.

He’s in the middle of taking his frustrations out on polishing the very first daggers gifted to him, a prize earned from thousands of hours of mindless drills and training until his fingers bled.

Despite Klaus’ recent, gleeful assertions Diego wouldn’t say he was brooding, so much as trying to create some sort of plan for when he eventually succumbs to Klaus’ teasing, which at the rate he’s going it really could be any day now. But it’s definitely not brooding.

The hesitant tapping wasn’t expected, and Diego almost refuses to move, not putting it past his brother to manipulate one of their oldest rituals. But the thought feels wrong, some things are carved into stone and he wants to believe there’s a genuine reason Klaus’ waiting outside.

Scanning the room for inspiration and failing, it’s moronic but all he can think to do is dunk a dagger in the mug of coffee next to him and toss it onto the carpet, before rolling to his feet and opening the door.

Klaus looks… unhinged. Eyes darting frantically from one spot to the next like he’s searching out a safe place to stop, which apparently ends up being Diego’s feet.

It’s an old kind of mania, the type that comes out to play when everything in the world, living and dead, roared over one another for Klaus’ attention, and foolishly Diego, like all of their siblings, had been labouring under the illusion that the only person struggling with their abilities was Vanya.

“Witchey powers playing up?” There’s no confirmation, no denial.

When Klaus looks up the sight punches through his chest and he can feel a distinctive pain rattling behind his ribcage.

The sharp green eyes Diego’s become addicted to, that watch like a predator and saw through him like a hawk, are faded out, hollow, _exhausted _.__  Whatever this… _thing_ they were doing, it’s trivial right now, and it’s also not. He wants to see his little wolf, hiding behind the face of a sheep, that prowls along the corridors taunting him with his careless footsteps. That fights like he dances, floating through the air, one step ahead of everyone else.

 _Shit _.__  And what a moment, Diego thinks ruefully, to realise that he’s long been cornered in Klaus’ game.

But his brother needs a different game right now. A familiar one.

“I was just coming to find you-” It’s like picking up an old blade, jagged and rusty but he can still wield it, “- I could do with your magic touch.” He gestures vaguely behind him and tired eyes settle on the obvious coffee stains.

Diego can’t remember the last time someone’s looked at him so gratefully. Klaus wanders in with a gait that’s not quite fluid, lithe muscles tensing with minute contractions that makes his brother move like a marionette doll.

“I suppose I can spare a few minutes.”

“How considerate of you.”

Klaus arranges himself on the floor with a measured grace, and if there was any doubt in Diego’s mind about the authenticity of his visit then it would be eradicated when Klaus goes to pick up the smeared dagger before flinching at something Diego’s inferior vision can’t see.

He wants to ask for more, but that’s one of the first rules they’d ever established, unless Klaus offers up the information then it’s a no go zone. He settles himself down beside his brother, nudging the blade and rag into Klaus’ shaking hands.

Reminiscing about the Umbrella Academy has never been Diego’s idea of a good time, but like always Klaus manages to find some kernel of humour buried away under all of the decay.

“If Reggie didn’t want me to tell that journalist about my sex life then he should have made it clearer from the start.” Diego can still recall in perfect clarity the interview being published, Klaus’ rebellion against their infamously homophobic father immortalised in black and white for eternity. He’s pretty sure he’s got the article still saved away somewhere, “It’s my moral obligation to scandalise this family.”

Funnily enough, the shallow pants Klaus releases would be enough in any other circumstance to have Diego halfway to hard. Here it just makes him want to pull the séance into his lap and cover him away from the foul ghosts that torment him.

But Klaus hasn’t given him the cue yet. “You’ve been pretty negligent on that one recently.”

“Idiot, you know there’s nothing stopping me from jumping you right here.”

_Apart from the twitching and wincing._

But Diego’s not that much of a dick to point it out. “I think I know all of your tricks by now.”

“Pfft, that’s so sweet, I’ve got tricks for days baby.” Klaus does what Diego assumes is the start of a lascivious wink but ends with his head cracking back an inch, away from whatever fucked up thing he’s seeing and Diego doesn’t remark when Four chooses to ignore the tic. “Just been saving them for a rainy day.”

“Yeah, well even if you tried I haven’t got any… _supplies_.” Which, why is he admitting it to Klaus, and also that’s actually a major fuck up on his behalf now he’s thinking about it.

“Honestly, men are such idiots,” Klaus mutters, completely unaware of the irony as he slides on his butt towards the bed and shoves a corner of the mattress up, before Diego can question him, the séance shifts to lying on his back and presents a small bottle of lube in the air. “Luckily for you I’m always prepared.”

“How did you…”

“This bad boys been here for weeks,” Klaus looks immeasurably proud of himself and Diego’s leaning towards agreeing. “I had this funny feeling you’d be the type to think spit would work just fine.”

Which he kinda had, not that he’ll admit it when he’s confronted with a knowing smirk. “You really are a sneaky little shit.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant as one.” It’s hard not to smile at Klaus’ beaming face, for once the deterrent doesn’t come from himself, there’s still that manic gleam to Klaus’ eyes as his pupils dart somewhere behind Diego’s shoulder and an imperceptible shiver runs along his brothers body.

Klaus knocked. He’s not here for this new game, he wants a distraction, _comfort_ , and he’s chosen Diego to give him this.

“Witchey powers still being a bitch?”

Klaus rolls onto his stomach and adopts a blatantly fake glare that might be funny if Diego couldn’t see the tension bracketing his frame. “They’re not ‘ _witchey powers _’__ ”

“Course not.”

“I swear to the almighty one in the sky-”

“You don’t believe in god.” He can’t help but interrupt and it’s worth it for the comical look of Klaus’ eyes narrowing, focusing solely on him.

“Listen here harness boy, I’m this close-” Klaus pinches two fingers together, “-to giving up on you. _This close._ ”

Then something big interrupts them, not that Diego has a fucking clue what, but Klaus recoils, hands automatically rising to cover his face.

Diego is done with waiting and he doesn’t think Klaus cares, not with the flushed tinge of his brothers cheeks. Not when Klaus shudders as Diego, borderline condescendingly, ruffles a hand through the soft mess of his hair when he gets to his feet. And most definitely not when Klaus lurches up after him as Diego kicks everything to the side and firmly guides them both on top of the covers. It’s deeply satisfying to find that Klaus still fits perfectly in his arms as they arrange themselves until Fours cold cheek presses against his collarbone and fingers clutch at his waist.

“Don’t think this means you’ve won.” Klaus grumbles half heartedly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’ll wake you up with a blowjob.”

“Sure you will.”

“I’m not jok-” Klaus breaks off with a woeful sound.

Whatever howling bastards are stirring things up for him it’s out of Diego’s league to understand, but for once he knows precisely what to do. Threading a hand through soft curls, he cups his other palm over Klaus’ ear so he’s cradling the séances head and even though he’s so freaking rusty it’s embarrassing, Diego quietly starts to sing.

There’s nobody else on this shitty planet he’d do this for, not a single solitary human. But while he’s trying his best not to cringe, Klaus’ body weakens until he’s lax in Diego’s arms and the humiliation fades when he can feel fingers tapping out a rhythm against his hip. It takes a long second for him to realise that Klaus’ relaying the sound of Diego’s hearbeat as hears it.

 

* * *

 

Taking everything into consideration Diego’s doing pretty fucking well, he really is, for all of Klaus’ beguiling charm he’s most definitely holding resilient. Until the rave is bought up.

Or more precisely the events leading up to the rave.

They’re all in the kitchen, Diego’s leaning back against a counter and trying not to laugh at the theatrical re-enactment Klaus is treating Five and Vanya to, something about an adventure through Cuba with a ring of drag queens. Which should be impossible considering Diego’s had Klaus’ passport tucked away in an old duffel bag for safe keeping since they left the academy all of those years ago. But stranger events have happened.

The thing with Klaus’ tendency to ramble and his superfluous storytelling is it left nobody able to ever truly tell what’s fact from fiction, what’s the real nugget of truth behind the ever expanding anecdotes.

Klaus was the best at regaling them with vivid accounts of his past escapades, Vanya wanted a distraction from training and Five needed that silence filled. Diego just liked listening to Klaus’ voice. Everyone wins.

Well, they would be winners if Luther wasn’t stomping into the room and making a beeline for the fresh pot of coffee, face shaped in what could only be described as petulance. They’ve all become adept at steering clear of their supposed leader on the mornings Allison catches a flight back to her real home. The relationship between the pair was… well Diego would call it a hot fucking mess, but then again considering his thing with Klaus there wasn’t much room for him to judge.

Speaking of Klaus there’s barely a pause in his story before he plunges on and Diego’s really lost now, they’re somewhere between a drug deal and a trapeze artist, it’s getting fantastical enough that even Diego’s almost falling for it. From the enchanted smile on Vanya’s face it seems he’s not the only one, and Five can roll his eyes and huff all he likes, yet Diego can still see the corners of his mouth twitching behind his coffee mug.

It’s nice, this gentle lull in the general shitshow they’ve been lurching through, and Diego can avoid Vanya, but it’s impossible not to see how hard she’s been working to master her powers. How Five’s been burning himself out trying to calculate solutions to each new barrier as they reach it, giving his all to prevent another apocalyptic near miss.

Klaus was far more perceptive than he tried to let on, it’d taken one glance over their sister as she slumped into a chair, dejected and exhausted, before the séance launched into one of his stories. Vanya was hooked far, _far_ , too easily and Klaus loved nothing more than a captivated audience, needing no further encouragement to continue with his elaborate tale.

There’s an open affection in those sharp green eyes as they analyse his siblings and Diego can’t help but wonder how much of his brothers insanity was an act he engineered to fool them.

But it’s too early to fixate on such complicated thoughts, so Diego satisfies himself with admiring the lean shape of Klaus’ calves as his skirt swirls with his exaggerated movements.

“Do you ever shut up?” Luther’s voice cuts through Klaus’ and Diego’s bought out of his ogling with a sharp crack.

“Why on earth would I do that when I have such avid listeners.” Klaus sweeps an arm out and Vanya automatically nods. _Suck up _.__

“Maybe think about it, before someone does it for you.” Luther doesn’t seem too serious as he sinks spoon after spoon of sugar into his coffee.

“No thanks big guy, choke me once shame on you, choke me twice shame on me.” Klaus snickers at his own joke.

In comparison to some of the things he’s come out with in the past this is nothing, Diego would shrug it off, maybe razz Klaus over his confusion as he tries to remember where he left his story. The problem was Luther flinching, hard enough boiling liquid breaches the mugs rim, drizzling down his hand and Diego’s not the only one that notices.

A preternatural chill falls over the room at odds with the jovial smile on Klaus’ face.

“What’s he referring to Luther?” Five asks, straightening his little shoulders back.

“ _He_ has a name assholes, and he’s only messing with you guys. Now are we going to let me get back to-”

“Klaus.” Vanya softly interrupts because it’s obvious that he’s deflecting, and if he’s deflecting then he wasn’t fucking joking.

Which means that Luther…

“What the _fuck_ did you do?” Diego wasn’t aware he was moving until Klaus’ hand flashes out, insanely fast, and snares around his arm, it does precisely what the little shit intends as he stumbles to a stop.

Luther looks between them all, unease flickering over his face. “It was an accident-”

“How do you choke someone accidentally?” Vanya cuts him off with a growing frown and Diego’s going to take back every rude word he ever said about his sister.

“I’m also curious, whenever I’ve asphyxiated a person it’s very much been on purpose.” Five chimes up.

“It’s all in the past guys, he was drinking and I couldn’t bring dear old Dad up from the dead, no biggie.”

Diego suddenly has a desperate need to palm a blade and send it soaring into Luther’s flesh.

“Shit Klaus why are you making excuses for him? I’ve been drunk, Five’s been drunk, have either of us ever gone for you?”

There’s a brief pause as Klaus lets him go, he’s out of his depth here, in the spotlight for reasons outside of his control, and seeing his brother forcing on a blasé smile has Diego grinding his teeth. This is the side of Klaus he __loathes__ , the deceptive shroud the séance weaves around himself as a shield, and Diego knows why.

After all, a person consisting completely of falsehoods cannot be hurt.

But he still can’t fucking stand it, not when the real Klaus' spectacular.

“I didn’t mean to grab him, and he wasn’t even hurt.” It’s like Luther’s trying to bait Diego into a fight.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” Vanya ignores him, an unnatural breeze fluttering through her hair.

Klaus shrugs, one-shouldered and tight. It’s disturbingly unnatural, tense and self-concious where he’s normally so nonchalant, so lazily poised.

“Have any of you guys tried to do anything when you’re coming down from a high, let me just tell you it’s a headfuck,” Klaus’ insouciant guise holds up and Diego’s jaw unlocks for the barest of moments.

Until.

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t have been nagging him when he was upset.”

Whether its the unnecessary contrition or the way Vanya looks at him aghast that has Klaus faltering, and for a heartbreaking, unbearable moment he looks like a small child that doesn’t understand how they’ve let you down. Then it’s gone, the rare, delicate expression disappears as Klaus withdraws back behind his carefully selected indifference and Diego wants nothing more than to cradle the capricious man in his arms, to let him know that it’s okay to express himself, that Diego will always listen.

Instead there’s a noise clawing out of his throat and he’s lunging towards Luther with the sole intention of drawing Klaus’ retribution out of their brother with nothing more than his bare hands.

He gets maybe a couple of feet before Klaus is sliding in front of him with another dizzying burst of speed, palm rising to press against Diego’s chest and it takes a long moment for him to smother the urge to barrel past the séance.

“Don’t.” It’s the quietest of words but then the whole rooms holding its breath.

“He could have killed you.”

“A little dramatic don’t you think-” Before he can explode Klaus’ tapping one slender finger against his chest in a perfect recitation. “-I’m asking you to leave it.”

There’s a challenge in those electric eyes that he’s always fallen for and Diego’s spitting out curses in his head, because he’s certain that if he pushed against the gentle pressure Klaus would move, slink away. But that would make him no better than Luther, so he focuses on the small quirk of Klaus’ lips and his body subconsciously slackens.

Whether it’s the tilt of his head or the tick of Klaus’ brow that communicates what he wants, Diego isn’t sure, but his brother needs to escape this stifled room. He reaches up to loosely circle Klaus’ thin wrist and Diego doesn’t even have to tug for the séance to happily trot along behind him as he storms out.

From the rattling crockery and Five’s sharp gaze as he stands to move beside Vanya, there’s a conversation that’s far from pleasant about to be had. It moderately helps his temper to hear Five’s acerbic tone echoing from the kitchen as he leads Klaus down the corridor.

They make it halfway up the stairs before Klaus can’t help talking, “Well that was exciting.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Klaus’ hand twists in his, sliding up to his forearm and tugging hard enough that Diego’s jerks to a halt, and _god_ he’s getting fed up of forgetting how strong his brother is.

“If I remember correctly my favourite vigilante was in jail at the time.”

“After that then?” Diego fights the urge to turn around, because he really doesn't want to see Klaus’ lazy smile, he can practically hear it in his voice.

“Hmm, does the apocalypse ring any bells?”

“It’s not funny.”

“Most definitely not.”

Diego gives in and he was right, but it’s a smile that looks terrifyingly fond.

“Next time I need help I’ll call for you first.”

“Good, Luther still shouldn’t get away-”

“Did I ever say I left it? Of course not silly, I put his photo and number on every furry dating site in the country.”

Klaus lets out a giggle and Diego’s body releases the last fragments of tension before he’s laughing with the séance. Maybe it’s helped along by the blade he’s thinking of stabbing Luther with the next time they train.

Between the rich sound of Klaus’ tittering and the heat of his skin touching Diego’s it’s kind of hard to see why they’re still playing this game. It was _nice_ to be chased for once, to have the roles reversed, and he wonders if it’s been the same for his brother. If Klaus now feels just as fucking tired of messing around.

There’s something deeply satisfying in standing above Klaus, if only that when Diego pulls him closer the séance has to crane his head back, Klaus opens up so easily into the kiss, his mouth hot and silky. The flutter of his tongue meets Diego’s, and he swallows an achingly needy sound that Klaus makes, he can feel nails digging into his arm and Klaus’ free hand clenching Diego’s sweater as he leans back and his on the spot plan must be clear as fucking day.

“Wait, is this all it took to make you crack?” Klaus somehow manages to sound more indignant at Diego’s reticence than Luther choking him. Not that he resists when Diego leads him down the quickest route towards his bedroom.

Once they’re through the door Klaus immediately tries to tug him towards his bed and Diego has to grip his shoulders to stop the séance from crashing into things with his usual forthright attitude. “No need to rush.”

Klaus gives him a mildly irritated look, “You better not be teasing me-” Diego’s treated to one of his brothers more childish pouts and it really shouldn’t be doing anything for him. “- Because I know how I want you to fuck me.” The lewd smile is Klaus trying to goad him and for a second Diego forgets his plan, but the one good thing about not needing to breath is moments like these don’t cripple him like they could.

“There’s more than one way to tie a knot, baby.” _There we go._ It’s a confirmation that he’s on the right path, Klaus shudders while Diego pulls him closer by the hem of his mesh top before tugging it slowly over his head, he closes the last bit of distance, tips of his fingers barely touching Klaus’ cheek as he kisses him.

As Diego expected Klaus can’t resist trying to prod them along into something more frantic, his kisses are bruising, biting at his lip and Diego can feel the bratty smirk before Klaus pulls back, the expression begging for him to slam his brother against the wall, to strike and mark him.

Diego’s thumb strokes slowly over Klaus’ cheekbone instead, “You can try to rush me all you want little brother. It’s not going to work.”

Klaus thinks he wants Diego to hurt him, to push his boundaries until he’s flayed open and raw, emotionally or physically, but Diego’s spent a lot of time thinking about this, and he knows his brother. Klaus doesn’t truly want that kind of pain, at least not for the reasons he spouts, what he really wants is for someone else to take complete control and to be allowed to bask in the comfort of his obedience.

Something that Diego’s more than happy to provide.

Klaus can’t help but push, bringing his mouth to Diego’s ear so he can whisper teasingly, “I _need_ you Diego, _ _please,__  I’ll beg-” He cuts the séance off, catching the hands tugging at his belt and locking Klaus’ wrists together, shunting him back against the closed door and trapping them above his head.

“I don’t need to hurt you to make you ache Klaus.” Diego’s free hand strokes down, nail scraping over one peaked nipple and Klaus’ gasp has his blood fizzing.

“I don’t have to choke you to make you feel like you can’t breath.” His fingers ghost along the snug band of Klaus’ skirt and his brother reacts beautifully, breathing heavy and wet as he tries to swallow.

It’s difficult not to grin as he leans in, painfully aware of the hard outline beneath the pleated skirt, and whispers into Klaus’ ear, “And I don’t have to smack you about to have you begging.”

Klaus sags against him and Diego releases his wrists so he can steady them both, giddy over the power a handful of words can have over his brother.

It’s easy to walk him backwards to the bed, Klaus clinging to his shoulders for balance and Diego gives him the briefest of kisses before he pushes him down, flipping him over so his head presses against the bedding, hips automatically rising into the air. Klaus, when he wants to be, really is the neediest person Diego’s ever met, _lucky for him_ , he reaches down to pull Klaus’ hands up to the slats of the headboard.

“Can you keep them here for me baby,” he keeps his tone low, and it’s not really a question but Klaus nods so quickly his curls bounce.

For a while he’d wondered whether Klaus would need some sort of deterrent if Diego really wanted to wind him up, but the lack of violence is its own type of cock ring and there’s a dazzling challenge in making Klaus come unravelled without a hand around his throat or bruises scattered over his skin.

Those can come later.

He traces a pattern between Klaus’ shoulder blades with one hand, the other fumbles for the bottle of lube shoved between the bed and the wall, _thank you Klaus,_ opening it quietly and coating his fingers liberally. Klaus shudders forward when Diego brushes a finger up the back of his thigh, under the folds of his skirt, circling his opening lightly and waiting until his brother starts to get restless before he’s pressing in, and it’s a jolting moment when he realises that Klaus wasn’t lying to Five about how long it’s been.

That’s fine, Diego’s already committed to ruining Klaus softly, it’s easy to slowly stroke, prod and tease as he adds another finger, playing around the edges of the small bundle of nerves that has Klaus whimpering, hands tightening on the headboard and the wiry muscles in his back flex with the movement, skirt bunching around his waist. But Klaus is unusually quiet, pretty eyes shut, chewing on his bottom lip as he squirms back against the pressure and Diego doesn’t like it.

“Aren’t you enjoying this baby brother, do you want me to stop?” Not that he has any intention of doing so, but Klaus groans and it’s enough for Diego’s dick to hurt inside his jeans.

“Please-” Klaus’ eyes flutter open as Diego presses insistently against his prostate, a reward not for the plea but Klaus’ voice, so heavy with need. “Please, don’t stop.”

For a moment he’s almost fucked and Klaus knows it, head twisting so his blown out pupils meet Diego’s and his so called control stutters as he imagines holding Klaus down and fucking him until he’s a wordless mess. But he’s not lost it yet, running his free hand along Klaus’ trembling thighs and resuming the painfully slow pace, leaning down to kiss his answer up the line of Klaus’ spine, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

It’s not until he can feel Klaus shiver, tension building in his body as he tries not to rock back that has Diego withdrawing. Bringing an arm around his brothers waist and pulling him upright, back flush against his chest as the séance lets out a yelp and it’s easy to hide his smile behind a bite to the pale column of Klaus’ throat.

Not that he’s resisting, a glance down reveals his hands balled up on his thighs, shaking with the effort not to move and, _god_ , Diego really fucking loves his brother. He runs a palm down Klaus’ side, tucking under that blessed skirt and wrapping his lubricated fingers around his dick. He can’t stop a fond chuckle as Four startles, grinding back against Diego and the friction reminds him that he really needs to undress.

Instead he leans away, one hand slowly stroking Klaus’ length in a grip that’s far too loose, and the other returning to it’s spot at his entrance, fucking his fingers in at a pace that’s nowhere near enough to push his brother over the edge.

“ _Diego _,__ ” Klaus’ getting desperate, rocking between Diego’s hands in a plea to give him what he wants. It’s mesmerising to watch Klaus’ arousal build and collapse, sounds trapped between moaning and whimpering caught in his throat as he swallows, head thumping back onto Diego’s shoulder as he shivers and Diego thinks he could watch Klaus like this forever.

“Please, Diego,”

“What do you need baby.”

“P-please let me c-come.” The pitchy, whiney stutter fucking floors Diego.

“Oh, baby,” He kisses Klaus’ cheek, pulling away as the séance tries to turn his head and the open trust in his shimmering eyes as he relaxes makes Diego’s next word feel cruel and _wonderful_.

“No.”

_Not yet._

Klaus goes taut against him and the distressed noise he chokes out makes Diego’s dick jump, it’s enough that he pulls his hands away and Klaus, without any support, falls forward onto the bed. Diego feels like there’s a live wire sparking up his spine as he pulls his clothes off and Klaus rolls over, fingers unclenching to reach out for him, a splash of red mixed with the black ink of his palm.

Diego catches his hand and brings it closer for inspection, his heart fucking hammers when he realises that Klaus’ nails have broken the skin at some point in his efforts to keep them still, between that liquid and the wet lines trailing down into his hairline it only emphasizes how beautiful his brother is.

It’s Klaus’ lidded eyes Diego’s watching for that first thrust, then it’s Klaus’ bruised mouth falling open as he lets out the most delicious _ah_ , the bloody palms that catch Diego’s jaw and run through his scruff smearing him in the séance’s own way of marking.

There’s a hitch in Klaus’ breath when he moves, shallow and slow in his pace, reigniting the flame he’d lit with his fingers and Klaus’ voice cracking around a moan when Diego angles just right to grind up into his prostate fuels his need to see his little brother unravel.

“Diego, please. I can’t, I can’t-” Klaus’ fingers dig into Diego’s hair as he tries to buck and move as his legs wrap around Diego’s waist, crossing them at the ankles behind his back, and it’s easy to hold him still with a hand curling around his neck in warning, the skin burning to the touch.

“What’s wrong baby?”

Diego slows down until he’s near stopped, grateful for the excuse to steady his pounding heart, the curl in his stomach urgent, bordering on painful, and it’s the smallest insight of what Klaus must be feeling, what drives him into gasping, “Please, Diego, please _, I’ll do anything.”_

And Diego’s suddenly done with the teasing and everything in between, he’s made his point, not that it seems important now. So he thumbs at a watery streak running across Klaus’ temple and as his brothers squirming desperately he withdraws to the tip before slamming back in with enough force it punches a strangled sound out of Klaus’ chest.

It turns to frantic sobs when he finally gives Klaus the rough, harsh pace he’s begged for. Diego can only watch as Klaus gyrates his hips to meet his thrusts, heat coiling tighter as his brother arches up when Diego reaches between their bodies to wrap a hand around his dick.

He can sense Klaus’ orgasm dancing on the precipice, it takes nothing more than tightening his grip around Klaus’ dick and his brothers clenching down, crying out his release as it ruins his skirt, Diego rides him through it, determined to save Klaus’ open, raw expression to memory. It’s too much in the end, Diego thrusts once more before he’s whiting out, spilling hot and hard inside Klaus, and the knowledge that he’s leaving a part of himself inside his brother becomes overwhelming, has Diego pulling Klaus into his arms and clutching him tightly.

With a surprising amount of grace considering his muscles feel like lead, Diego manages to shift so he’s lying down with Klaus tucked into his side, receiving a soft whine as he runs a hand up and down his brothers spine, whispering nonsensical words of approval into those sweaty curls.

There’s no chance of cleaning either of them up properly when the slightest movement has Klaus’ slack body tensing again so he settles for helping him wriggle out of his skirt and removing the bulk of the mess with the ruined material before throwing it somewhere across the room.

Turns out Klaus likes cuddling, a lot. Pale limbs end up sprawled across his body and when Diego settles his arms back around his brother there’s a sated hum that has a warm tendril curling up his spine as he tugs the covers over them and tries not to think about how filthy they probably are.

Klaus’ usual bravado is nowhere to be found as he mumbles into Diego’s chest, “Hey, guess what I’ve just thought of.”

“I’m thinking it’s really fucked up?”

“You’re finally number One at something.”

“Shit, way to ruin the mood Klaus.” Diego’s tempted to shove the séance away from him but the claws digging into his skin suggest it’s not wise. “We’re never doing this again.”

Just as Diego’s sluggish brain starts to switch off Klaus mutters something so quietly that he has to strain to catch it.

“But we are, right?”

It’s vulnerable, apprehensive, like the answer shouldn’t be fucking obvious, and Diego can feel this protective urge swell in his gut as he kisses Klaus’ forehead.

“Course, where else am I going to find a sparkly, ghost whispering asshole?”

He can feel Klaus’ smile against his skin. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

 _No,_ Diego thinks while his brothers breathing slowly evens out as he falls asleep _ _._ No, I would fucking not._

 

 


End file.
